


Rescue

by pirategirljack



Category: 12 Monkeys (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hiatus fic, Rescue, deacon is a time traveler, deacon still doesn't know what to do about jennifer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 16:42:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8292754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pirategirljack/pseuds/pirategirljack
Summary: My fics have the lamest names because I never name them until I'm posting them.Deacon gets sent back to find Jennifer and doesn't expect, like, any of it.





	

Deacon laid back in the chair he’d sent Cassie and Cole off from more times than he could remember, and tried to look like he wasn’t as worried as he was. He didn’t really know what to expect; no one had really told him what it feels like, or whether it looks or sounds like anything while it happens--he only knew what he’d seen from the outside and that was people disappearing in a flash and then coming back in pain.

As a rule, Deacon was not fond of pain. It’s why he was usually the one inflicting it.

Jones pulled down her mad scientist shades and said “Initiate Splinter Sequence” like she did every time. The light engulfed him in a pretty literal way he wasn’t expecting--he could feel the edges of it, like some sort of forcefield around him, peeling him out of reality before it flung him out of the vibrating chair and into a muddy trench in the middle of a bombardment.

He wasn’t expecting that, either.

People grabbed him while he was still recovering, trying to remember how to breathe and stand upright, and they disarmed him and dragged him to a little room with no windows built into the side of the trench. Tossed him in. Locked the door.

It was dim, but he was getting past the shock of his first splinter now--with a little more empathy for Cole now--and had just started to get a look at the place when a shadow in the corner, half behind a small field desk, moved and said “Deacon?”

He couldn’t believe he was lucky enough to have found her so quickly.

At least, he hoped it was quickly.

“Jennifer.” He went and crouched before her, his hands out but unsure if he should touch her. “Are you alright?”

“Deacon,” she said again, this time like it was the best word in the whole language, and she launched herself at him. He wasn’t expecting that. He wasn’t expecting the launch to end in a fierce hug around his neck, either, with her legs clamped around his waist and her hands fisted in his coat, and her face buried in his shoulder. “You came.” There was so much he didn’t expect in this trip.

“Oh,” he said, momentarily at a loss for words, something he didn’t really experience much. Haltingly, he folded his arms around her. She was smaller than she’d looked, once he found the solid flesh under the soft give of her coat. Her hair was tangled and damp. “I think we took too long to find you. How long have you been here?”

She didn’t let go, and answered from where her face was pressed into his body. “Too long. I don’t know, days and days, they all run together when you can’t see the sky, but I counted twenty two meals. I asked for a window to look out, but they only worry about the bombs.”

“Reasonable.”

“Did you come to take me home?”

“I did. Can you--are you hurt?”

“Which home? Which home--the one full of asshole Daughters who hate me or the one where everyone thinks I’m crazy and doesn’t know they’re probably already dying?” Her voice cracked. Awkwardly, he tightened his grip for a moment, then carefully pushed her back.

“The Facility, first. We’ll figure out what to do next after that.”

Jennifer’s eyes looked bigger and sadder than ever, and they’d been pretty impressively emotional before, and it did something in Deacon’s chest. Something similar to what happened whenever he’d found a hungry puppy or a lost child on the side of the road as he’d traveled with his boys, but softer. He found himself touching her cheek with just the backs of his knuckles, not quite an awkward chuck under the chin, but close enough that he felt stupid for not knowing what else to do and stopped himself.

“Are you ready?”

“Never been more ready for anything in my life.” She dragged her sleeve up and held it out to him before he even had the syringe out of the inner pocket hidden in his shirt, and she barely winced as he injected her with the serum that had almost made him tear up, it hurt so much. He wondered how many times she’d been shot up with things that came in needles. 

His arm hurt. “It’s getting close.”

“I can’t wait.” And he remembered how much she’d loved her trip to 2044 before he’d shot her other self. 

“I believe that. Let’s go home.”


End file.
